


The End of The Line

by je3p3rsCre3p3rs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Stucky - Freeform, Stucky Endgame Angst, stucky angst, stucky fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je3p3rsCre3p3rs/pseuds/je3p3rsCre3p3rs
Summary: Steve spent five years trying to move on, but never let go of Bucky. "To the end of the line," he had said, and he meant it. Now Bucky has returned, looking the same as the moment he turned to dust before Steve's eyes. For Bucky, the snap felt like being strapped to the torturous machine that had governed him for decades, feeling himself distilled into a stranger, into nothing. When he returned, he was the soldier again, delivered into another bloodbath.The day is won, the snapped are back, but no one is smiling. Instead, Steve has tears in his eyes at the funeral of the man whose parents Bucky killed, and Bucky's skin itches with the feeling that he doesn't deserve to be here.





	The End of The Line

 

 

Bucky tries to stare straight ahead and look respectful, but his eyes are glazed over, his face a stone mask. His skin itches with the feeling that he doesn't deserve to be here. Everyone around him fails to hide their tears or muffle their sniffling. He glances to Steve near the front of those gathered for Tony Stark's funeral. By the tightness in his broad shoulders, he can see the emotion knotted within him, but Steve is one of the quiet ones.

When Bucky first caught sight of him in the final battle against Thanos' army, he saw Steve Rogers before he saw Captain America. The little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight had been the smell of freshly dried print on newspaper and of blood from a scuffle, the sound of impatient taxicabs on a busy street and of biting sarcasm, the look of the setting sun bleaching blond locks and of bruised skin. But these were days of aliens and technology and ruin. Steve refused to back down as he stood alone in the way of the entire alien force, and to Bucky, the little guy from Brooklyn looked more like a god.

The snap had felt a lot like being strapped to Hydra's machine, feeling himself distilled into a stranger, into nothing. When he returned, he was the soldier again, delivered into another bloodbath. "Avengers..." All Bucky knew was the fight. "...assemble!" It always ended in a fight. When the enemy forces fell away to dust, when the victors shambled back to civilization and sanity, when the wounded were tended and the lost were found, Bucky almost expected to hear a voice demand, "Mission report," as he finally sat down. Instead, Steve leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed, and in a voice that betrayed the years lost between them, simply said, "Good to have you back, Buck." He crossed the room in two strides, wrenching Bucky into an embrace so tight, he might have been trying to will the years to turn back. "I've lost you enough times," Steve whispered on a hitched breath, "I thought I lost you for good. Don't go where I can't follow, Buck." He buried his face in Bucky's shoulder, tightening his arms around him. Bucky enveloped himself around Steve, trying to imagine five years without him, but only summoned memories as the Winter Soldier.

That night, they spread couch cushions across the floor of Steve's apartment like when they were kids, but neither man could find sleep. Instead, Bucky listened as Steve recounted his past five years, time Bucky hadn't felt pass between the snap and re-materialization. From his perspective, he had seen Steve only yesterday. Meanwhile, Steve refused to let Bucky out of his sight, although he hardly seemed to realize what he was doing. He followed Bucky to the kitchen as Bucky pilfered a plum from his fridge, only to then lean against the door frame and speak softly about Natasha's relentless efforts to bring everyone back. He waited outside the bathroom door. He leaned against Bucky on the floor cushions. His eyes followed Bucky closely in everything he did as if to make sure he was really there and not just an illusion. That after all this time, Bucky had really returned to him. And Bucky indulged him, moving slowly and precisely to indicate where he meant to go, sticking close by Steve's side, even nudging into him in answer that yes, he was there, and he wasn't going anywhere.

Now, with the funeral proceedings coming to an end and Tony's first arc reactor floating atop the lake, Bucky can't bring himself to look at it. He sees in his mind Iron Man's gauntlet beam aimed to kill when Tony first discovered the truth behind his parents' death. Bucky stares just to the right of the arc reactor, forcing himself not to react to the violent memories playing behind his eyes, reminding him of the blood on his hands. He doesn't notice when the reception ends and those mourning start to wander and console one another, not until Sam touches his arm, snapping him out of the trance-like state that had come over him. Even with all the therapy he underwent in Wakanda, both physical and mental, his past remains a part of him that can't be ignored.

"You good?" Sam asks in a low voice so as not to draw attention. Bucky gives a short nod, raking his eyes over the dissipating crowd in search of Steve. He's standing at the edge of the lake, a cold statue of a man enmeshed in thought. "He would've given his life," Sam mutters, lifting his chin toward Steve, "You know he wishes it was him." Bucky turns a sharp look on him to ban all mention of this topic, but in doing so catches a glimpse of a little girl past Sam's shoulder, dark-haired and seated on a porch bench with Tony's chauffeur. Tony had too much to leave behind. It's for that reason Sam isn't wrong. "He needs to hear a voice besides the one in his head."

"I'll talk to him," Bucky says, meeting Sam's eyes, but it comes out like he's receiving an order. Sam claps his shoulder, looking out over the lake.

"For as much trouble as he was, Stark really was the best of us," he sighs, and heads over to speak with Rhodey and Maria Hill.

Bucky takes his time walking up to Steve, studying the set of his shoulders as if this might spell his thoughts. Steve startles when Bucky steps up beside him, glancing over at his approach with sore, glistening eyes, but settles just as quickly with hands resting on his hips and eyes gazing out over the lake. He speaks first, voice rough with emotion. "Tony and I didn't always see eye to eye, but I never doubted his heart was in the right place. Even with the Accords, he only ever wanted to protect people."

"And he did," Bucky says, looking out over all those who had come to mourn Tony, all of whom wouldn't be here if not for his efforts.

When Bucky's eyes fall back on Steve, he's watching him. "He brought you back. His machine made it possible to get the stones." Steve hesitates, preparing himself for what he's about to say. "Now they need someone to put the stones back. I said I'd do it." Bucky guesses what this means, but finds his guess confirmed when Steve breathes, "I've been wanting to get out for a long time, Buck. I didn't know if I'd make it through this last mission. I think, after this..."

Silence falls between them as Bucky's heart sinks low in his stomach. He wants to say, "You're going back for her, aren't you?" but he already knows the answer. Instead, he asks, "When?"

"Tomorrow. We can't leave the stones out of place for too long, but Bruce needs time to set up the machine."

Bucky nods along, wearing a familiar mask in the effort not to speak his mind. One day. That hardly seems long enough for goodbye.

The remaining Avengers go to dinner. Shawarma, in celebration of Tony, but the atmosphere is quiet. That evening, Bucky sits closer to Steve on the couch cushions they've neglected to pick up off the floor. He's the one following Steve around the apartment, but he hovers when he does. He's a walking shadow, silent and easy to miss, like a predator stalking his prey. He's entirely unlike Steve with his uncanny ability to command a room, to walk in and suddenly every light seems brighter. They talk as normal, but Steve watches Bucky out of the corner of his eye, noticing his closeness. When Steve falls asleep on the cushions, Bucky can't help trying to memorize the lines of his face, so peaceful but tired. There are more lines than he remembers, the stress of those five years written in the creases on his forehead and around his eyes. He spent his childhood memorizing these lines when they were softer, thinner, not quite so sharp, so strong.

Bucky sits with his back against the foot of the barren couch, his head resting in the palm of his metal hand as his other brushes a lock of blond hair out of Steve's face. Steve's hair is the softest thing he can remember. Steve turns over in his sleep as if chasing Bucky's touch. He practically nuzzles his face into the side of Bucky's thigh but a pillow gets in the way. Bucky combs his fingers through Steve's hair, leaning his head back on the frame of the couch. He only ever wanted to live his life beside Steve. He was content to be put aside as long as Steve was still there at the end of the day, even when it meant finding girls for a double date, admiring the Captain's spandex in an offhand joke, and even sneaking a glare at Peggy Carter's flirtations back in the day. By some miracle, he had ended up here with him, taken out of time but still together. Steve had wrenched him from the claws of Hydra, their hooks sunk so deep into him he had seen himself torn to shreds. Steve had saved an afterimage of James Buchanan Barnes, who had died at the hands of Hydra with the birth of the Winter Soldier. For too long to remember, he had lost himself, but Steve helped him find the bits that were still there. Come tomorrow, he won't even have Steve.

Without realizing, Bucky's fingers tense in Steve's hair. Groggy from sleep, he groans into the pillow, calling Bucky back to the present to soften his grasp and smooth the tousled locks. Too late, Steve is waking up. He glances up from a squinted eye, demanding an explanation. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to wake you up," Bucky says in a deep, soft voice. Only Steve ever hears him like this.

"Mm," Steve mumbles into the pillow he has clutched to his face. He leans into Bucky's hand, resting his head on Bucky's thigh. Taking the hint, Bucky continues playing with his hair. He only wishes he could have braided it when it was longer. He won't sleep tonight, not if he can help it. He won't miss a single moment of Steve Rogers.

Whatever makes him happy, even if it means losing him...

It's midday when Bruce Banner finishes tinkering with the time machine. Bucky feels sick all morning, and not just because he didn't sleep. Sam has come along to see Steve off, unaware of the race Bucky's heart is running next to him. Empty visions of a future without Steve are narrated by the Winter Soldier's voice in the back of his head, but no one's the wiser. Steve prepares to return to the past, glancing every now and then toward Sam and Bucky. When he catches his eye, Bucky shoots him an encouraging smile. Whatever makes him happy. Steve will choose her, and he'll the live the life he always wanted. It's all Bucky wants for him. To be content, to be at peace, to be happy. So then why does it feel like his heart is ripping at the seams? Like every rib in his ribcage wants a piece of his heart? He knows why, but he doesn't let the word beyond the barrier in his mind. He can't escape it.  _Alone_. He'll be utterly alone.

Still, he smiles for Steve and waits patiently for his heart to break.

When he's ready to go, Steve steps up to Sam for their short goodbyes. Sam doesn't say much. He thinks Steve will be back. Steve faces Bucky next, and Bucky feels his composure slipping. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, drawing a jaded chuckle out of Bucky, shaking his head.

His response is mechanical, aware of the lie. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." As one, they step in for a hug but Bucky lingers in his embrace, pressing his mouth into Steve's shoulder and feeling his warmth for the last time. It's a moment before they step out of this, and another moment as they simply watch each other, neither of them willing to let go just yet.

"I'm gonna miss you, buddy," Bucky says, a heavy weight clamping down on his chest.

"It's gonna be okay, Buck." He says it so confidently, Bucky can't help but crook a smile. Then he turns toward the machine, walking away, and the smile slips from Bucky's face. He watches him with his hands in his pockets. He knows what happens next. It's the life Steve always wanted.

A final word from Bruce and Steve is gone. With the blink of an eye, it's over. Bucky releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, forcing the lump of emotion down in his throat. Sam watches intently as Bruce flicks a couple switches and turns some knobs. Bucky is still as a mountain, letting the truth wash over him. Already, the world feels emptier. Dimmer. Colder.

"And three, two, one," Bruce counts down, but Bucky knows it's no use. Even so, his heart jumps to his throat. What if... Bruce clicks a button, and for a split second, Bucky is paralyzed with grief, understanding, acceptance, until all at once, he goes entirely numb. Because Steve is standing right there. And he's looking Bucky right in the eyes.

Bucky crosses the distance between them as if pulled by a string and clasps Steve's neck, pressing his forehead to Steve's. A knowing smile turns up the corner of Steve's mouth, aware of the turmoil in Bucky, but Bucky's shock is still running its course.

"You could have stayed with Peggy," Bucky breathes, as wild-eyed and confused as he was that day on the bridge, when Steve called the Winter Soldier Bucky. "I thought..." His mouth is dry, his eyes drinking Steve in and reveling in the taste.

"We had our dance, and I told her not to worry about me. She already had a life to live," Steve says, shaking his head but making no effort to break contact, "It will still be long, successful and happy without me. But I haven't been living mine. It's here, Buck, with you. This is the hand I was dealt." He peers openly into Bucky's eyes, pulling him in close with both hands on Bucky's waist. "I told you, I'm with you to the end of the line."

Bucky does the one thing he's waited his whole life to do. He tips his chin, his metal hand pressing the small of Steve's back as his other hand cups that fine jawline he studied so meticulously last night, and he catches Steve's lips with his own. His joy drowns out the noise of surprise from Banner and the triumphant sound Sam makes as his suspicions are confirmed before his eyes. His entire being is devoted to the man under his lips as his hand traces up from Steve's jaw to brush through his soft hair. They don't break until their lips feel swollen, their breathing heavy, Steve's hair a general mess. Bucky grins, heart still fluttering with the elation of Steve's decision. "I thought you said you wanted to get out."

"You're my out and it's not gonna end in a fight this time, Buck." Steve's eyes find Sam over Bucky's shoulder. Squeezing Bucky's side, he steps out of their embrace and moves toward Sam. It's a moment before Bucky understands. Steve plucks his shield from his back, Sam's eyes going round on the symbol of Captain America. When Steve offers it, Sam hesitates to take it. "How does it feel?" A sly glint is in his eyes which Sam is quick to catch.

With the shield on his arm, Sam quirks an eyebrow. "Like it's somebody else's."

"It's not," Steve says and nods down at the shield.

"Then I take it Captain America's retiring?" Sam asks.

"More like passing the torch."

"I'd say carrying a torch, but..." Sam quips, but loses his train of thought as he ogles the shield on his arm. He grows somber, meeting Steve's eyes. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will."

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes spend their first evening as civilians cleaning the couch cushions off the floor. It seems too perfect to be true when Harry Jones' It's Been A Long Long Time plays from the stereo. They meet eyes from across the room. Bucky smirks. It truly has been a long, _long_ time. But they will always have each other. Steve extends a hand, bringing Bucky to groan and laugh as he accepts Steve's dance, but he rejoices to hold him close and be held. The song swathes them as they sway in the middle of cushions strewn about. Bucky sighs with a fond memory, overlaying this moment with a time before the war. A hint of freshly dried print on newspaper surrounds them. Taxicabs honk outside and people shout mirthfully in the street. The sun washes in through the window, setting on Steve Rogers' blond head like a fiery halo. For this, he would live it all again.


End file.
